Melting Ice
by Awesome Cheese Sandwich
Summary: Iceland and the Nordics go to Gamescom, where Iceland meets Gabe Newell, and starts a new adventure.
1. Chapter 1

"So why do you want to see Germany?"  
"I'm not going to see Germany (or at least not intentionally) I'm just going to Germany."  
"Something you're not telling me, Icey?"  
"Shut up, Denmark."

Finland watched the conversation from what he thought was a safe distance. "Looks like they're arguing again," he sighed.  
"Hm," Sweden nodded.

"Well even if you don't approve. Both of you! I'm still going." Iceland said firmly at both Norway and Denmark, "Stop treating me like I'm a kid; I've been independent since how long? 1874! And I've been fine, haven't I." After hearing this, both Denmark and Norway looked surprised at Iceland's rant. Then Denmark shrugged, "meh, he has a point. Okay, go." Norway looked disapproving at Denmark after he said that, then Denmark turned and walked away. Norway opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. "Fine then. Go," he muttered without making eye contact with Iceland, then turned around and walked towards the door. "Finland!" He said casually as he walked, "I'm getting a coffee, want one?"  
"Oh yes!" Finland said, "you know, with two sugars and no milk."  
"Two sugars and no milk, got it."

Iceland was left standing next to the window, he turned around and looked out into Reykjavik. The snow's melted a bit more since yesterday Early Summer. He thought. Then he heard Finland's footsteps as he walked towards towards him, so he turned around. "What did you want to do in Germany anyway?" Finland asked with the same sweet smile he usually used. "I was," Iceland seemed embarrassed and turned to look at the floor for half a second before resuming eye contact with Finland and continuing, "I'm going to Gamescom."  
"What's that?"  
"That's that game conference, isn't it," said Sweden from the back of the room before giving a faint smile at Iceland.  
"Yeah, that's right," said Iceland, beginning to sweat as he usually does when nervous.

"I've got your coffee," said Norway monotonously.  
Why does he have to be so damn autonomous? Thought Iceland, than he remembered, he only does that when he's annoyed, but even when he isn't, he is just a very emotionless kind of person.  
"Thanks," said Finland, and took a sip of the coffee. "Icey was just telling us about him going to Gamescom."  
"What's that," said Norway suspiciously.  
"It's-" began Iceland  
"It's a gaming conference," interrupted Sweden, resulting in a look of annoyance from Iceland.  
"You like gaming?" Asked Norway. After hearing that, Iceland almost face-palmed. Then he remembered that he never actually told Norway he liked video games. For some reason, he was never confident to share personal things like that with him. But I suppose saying that I like video games isn't exactly personal, it's just... playing games something that I like to do. It's a hobby. Why do I feel so awkward and embarrassed to tell Norway things about me. No it's not just him: it's everyone, except maybe...

"Iceland, answer me," Norway's stern voice cut through Iceland's internal monologue.  
"Oh right, well yes. I do."  
"Is this a new  
thing?" Norway asked, making Iceland feel as if he was being interrogated.  
"Well, yes," said Iceland, remembering the time a few nights before when he stayed awake until 7 A.M playing Modern Warfare 3 in his boxers, before falling asleep on the sofa, only to wake up 3 hours later to find that he had spilled Dr. Pepper all over himself.

"What? It's not a new thing!" Chuckled Finland. Damn you, Finland. Thought Iceland. Finland had always been one of the few people Iceland felt confident talking to, it was probably his friendly personality that got to me. But why does he have to be so damn oblivious?

"So it's not a new thing, then?" Said Norway, making it sound more like a statement than a question.  
"What?" Said Iceland, "Oh yeah! I'm sure I told you I like Gaming!" Then he saw Norway's blank face, "Didn't I?" There was a silence that lasted three seconds. "Didn't I?" Iceland said once again with desperation.  
"No. You didn't tell me," said Norway bluntly.  
"Sorry," said Iceland, looking at the floor.

"Well that was awkward as fuck," Iceland muttered to himself as he stepped outside of the Alþingishúsið, the Icelandic government building where him and the rest of the Nordics had met. He took a hip flask full of Brennivín and took a sip from it. Then another, and another. Then he sighed and put it away. "Wassup?" Said a familiar voice as Denmark walked towards Iceland. "Oh, hi, Denmark," said Iceland.  
"So I heard you were going to Gamescom," said Denmark with enthusiasm.  
"Yeah I am. Wait, you were listening to all of that, weren't you!"  
"Yes," said Denmark, making it sound as if there was nothing wrong his eavesdropping, "so you mind if I go?"  
"I want to go too," said Norway as he opened the door and walked towards them.

Oh crap, now they're coming too! Why did I just think that? Denmark's supposed to be my friend, and Norway's my brother! I should be happy that they're going. Besides, me going by myself would have been a bit, well, sad. Iceland sighed and said, "Okay. You can go with me."


	2. Chapter 2

The penis was drawn on his face, Iceland sighed when seeing this in the mirror. _Who drew it? Denmark? _He rolled his eyes and leant down, putting his face near the sink. He turned the tap on and washed it off, by splashing and rubbing his face. Then he stood up, lifted up the toilet seat, and peed. Then he slammed the seat down, splashed his hands once again with water, and flushed the toilet. As the toilet was flushing, he ran out as fast as he could, quickly closing the door behind him. After this, he walked back to his seat casually. "You left quickly, you still don't like the noise of airplane toilets flushing," said Norway.

"Mm hmm," answered Iceland as he sat down, picking up the pair of headphones attached to his iPod, regaining his place in a Bjork song. He smiled lightly, closing his eyes. Norway looked away, leaning against the wall, turning away at the small, circular window next to him. There was only clouds below, making him unable to see any evidence that they were even on Earth until they descended below them approximately two hours later.

Gamescom was full of humans, who the rest of the Nordics moderately fascinated by, and Iceland decided he would look around on his own. _This place is busy, _he thought after he bumped into a second person. He wandered around for what seemed like a good few hours or so. Iceland sat down in a quiet corner, he was hot. _Maybe wearing my jacket wasn't such a good idea after all,_ he thought as he opened a can of coke, and sipped on the sweet, fizzy liquid within. Once he had finished he quickly sat up, deciding to check out a retro gaming exhibition, as Iceland turned around, to walk in it's direction, he bumped into someone. The person he bumped into seemed to be large, his fat cushioned Iceland as he bumped into him. Iceland looked up and saw the man he had just walked into; he had short, light brown hair and thin glasses. Iceland gasped and stepped back, "I-it's you," he said, "you're Gabe Newell, aren't you." The man sighed, looking slightly angry, "yeah," he said, "Wow!" Iceland grinned excitedly, being the fanboy that he was, "it's you! It's really you!" Gabe Newell rolled his eyes, "yeah," he said again, then he looked at Iceland's face, his pupils dilated. Iceland said, "I've just been to the panel with you in, it was good. But I've been wondering, erm, I know you must get this a lot, but when is Episode 3? Or Half Life 3, whatever you're gonna call it." Gabe Newell said nothing for a few seconds, he looked embarrassed, but he finally said, "people ask me that a lot, it's true. But I find it hard to find, urm, well see the concept of, well, what three is."

"Huh?"

"Well, what's three?"

"You don't know what three is?"

"I've always thought something was in the way of making Episode 3," said Gabe, "and my psychologists are helping me figure that out now. But if I die before those people can make my fucking brain work properly, I want Mike Harrington to run my company. He may say he can't, he's modest like that. But they'll make him! Hell, he can sit behind my desk all he damn wants, I don't care." Iceland was shocked at what he had just heard. Most of it had gone over his head though, as a whole range of excited-related emotions had filled his mind with Gabe Newell's presence. "Hold on," he said quickly, "how could you not know what 3 is?"

"The concept of it simply eludes me."

"That doesn't make sense, look..." Iceland drew a triangle on a small piece of paper he found in his pocket. "How many sides does it have?"

"Two, plus one more," answered Gabe mechanically.

"No it has three!"

Gabe Newell looked at him blankly, "I don't see it."

"Okay then, count to ten."

"One, two, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," replied Gabe Newell.

"Maybe I could show you what three is," said Iceland calmly, and he kissed Gabe Newell on the lips.

_What happened? And where's Gabe? _It was dark. Iceland didn't know where he was. Then he felt gravity once again, and he woke up, instantly opening his eyes. The morning sunlight shone through the curtains of the hotel room. Then he remembered:

He had been trying to explain to Gabe what three is: _it was love, the feeling or another person's body close to his...or something philosophical like that_. Then the next thing he remembered was he was in Gabe's hotel room. Gabe asked his name, "Emil," Iceland replied, using his human alias name. He remembered Gabe dimming the lights using the dimmer switch, and the feel of Gabe's tongue on top of his tongue, slipping into his throat, grinding on top of his tongue as he unbuttoned his shirt. Then Iceland took off Gabe's tie, then the next thing he remembered was the feel of Gabe's warm dick in his mouth. Gabe leant forwards and backwards, ramming it in. Iceland moaned and gagged, gripping it with his right hand, licking all around it. He knew Gabe was about to cum by the taste of the pre-cum whenever he licked near the tip, until his mouth was filled with a warm, sticky white liquid. He was sitting up, was the next thing he remembered, with his legs spread and an intense pleasure between them as Gabe Newell sucked him.

It was all a blur. _That's right_, thought Iceland, _I remember now. It was all a blur. Then what happened? _He remembered the feeling of Gabe Newell's body on top of him as Iceland was on all-fours.

"If you do this, I'll release Episode 3," Gabe newell whispered softly into Iceland's ear, breathing softly on his upper neck as he squeezed and rubbed Iceland's bare nipples.

"G-Gabe, I... arrraagh!" Then Iceland felt Gabe Newell entering his ass, gripping his waist. Iceland stuck his ass up as Gabe did this, moving forwards and backwards every time Gabe entered, pushing his entire, dick deep into Iceland's sensitive, little, tight butt. Iceland felt Gabe cum, not quite filling the inside of his little ass, instead Gabe took his dick out why he was still cumming, and spread it across his buttcheeks and lower back, he remembered the feel of it shooting near his shoulder blades. Iceland felt the sheets damp with sweat and cum as he lay down.

_That's the last I can remember, then I fell asleep._ He sat up in bed, still naked, trying to remember more of what happened, but he must have been missing something important, because Gabe wasn't in with him. Iceland put on his boxers and trousers, and checked the bathroom. Gabe wasn't there. He checked everywhere that he could think of, even silly places like under the bed or in the cupboards, but there was no sign of Gabe or even where he went. All of Gabe's clothes and possessions were still there though. Iceland stood up after checking for anything in the cabinet underneath the TV. Nothing was in there.

There was a knock at the door. Iceland froze, that was when he remembered something else. Was it a dream that he was remembering? Did this actually happen? He remembered a man standing before him. The man looked old, he was wrinkly with blue eyes and faded blonde hair, blue eyes, and a pair of rectangular framed glasses. He wore a black suit, with heavily-polished black, blunt shoes and a white shirt with no tie. Iceland could remember no creases on any item of clothing he was wearing.

_Who the hell was that guy?_

The background kept changing, it was lines, scribbles, intertwining, constantly changing.

It made Iceland feel dizzy and uneasy thinking about it. He wanted to stop, but more flooded into his head, "Hello there, Emil, if that is your real name," He had an American accent, just like Gabe, "you will make the difference, Emil. You are the one we need." The sound of someone knocking at the door cut through his mind as he was thinking. Iceland turned around, and decided to answer it.


End file.
